


I Want More

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Robin tries to make sense of thinsg when she's sober, a first kiss in the office, a handy busker makes it all make sense for Corm, both thinking the same thing, buying a chocolate bar to share, everything feels perfect, it really is a shockingly fluffy ending!, lunch in Soho Square, sadly Ilsa is not sober!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: This came about from hearing a song by Icelandic group, Kaleo called I Want More on the French radio channel I listen to - it is on their playlist and keeps popping up - and it is fabulous!So, this came out of it - a sappy one shot where our ridiculous pair finally share the same feelings at the same time.A little nod to North and South as suggested by 'she knows who'.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 20
Kudos: 58





	I Want More

**Author's Note:**

> I added in a bit about that elbow grab in Cuckoo because I think her reaction in the TV version makes complete sense post Career of Evil when we discover her past - I always felt that shudder of hers was fear rather than attraction, and I think Strike saw it too. In my way I have got them to the point where Robin trusts him so much that nothing he can do will scare her.

They’d been sitting eating lunch together, as was the normal routine, although on this occasion they’d strolled to Soho Square in order to take advantage of the somewhat unexpected late-Spring weather and leave the offices to air with their windows open but the door closed, and a hastily created ‘back at 1.30pm’ note attached to the glass window which bore both of their names as partners in the business.

Sandwiches, crisps and bottled water somehow took on a picnic feel by default of being eaten outside and with company.

They sat in comfortable silences between mouthfuls of food and shared requests to pass bags, swap one sandwich for another etc.  
Strike reflected on how easy and familiar it all felt.  
How he and Robin had come to this almost perfect relationship.  
He’d laid the demons of Charlotte to rest; she’d waved goodbye to her disaster of a marriage, and neither had dwelled much on relationships, other than their shared one with the business.

Robin’s thoughts as she munched through the roasted red pepper and falafel wrap she’d swapped with Cormoran meandered from their current caseload to the swarthy man beside her, whose right lower leg was pressing against her own calf, meaning she could feel the solidity of the metal pin.  
At the pretty much monthly curry nights at the Herbert’s she’d had a very honest, and for her part, pretty sober discussion with Ilsa while Nick was washing dishes and Cormoran was smoking and pretending to antagonise Ossie (although everyone knew that he allowed the cat the luxury of pummelling his hairy neck with his small paws when he thought none of them were looking!)

Ilsa had, as usual when she was tipsy, asked why Robin and Strike were not a couple.  
On most occasions Robin was equally squiffy, and she’d indulged Ilsa in her thoughts about their mutual friend’s inherent sexiness…Ilsa had shared her intimate knowledge of Robin’s work colleague – formed from a lifetime of friendship and far too many drunken evenings spent with her husband requiring him to sleep on her sofa and giving her all manner of sights first thing in the morning!

This recent occasion however, Robin had been relatively sober – she was due to trail one of their clients early the following morning (having lost the game of rock, paper, scissors with Strike!) – so when Ilsa had dreamily stared at her friend and asked, “Why aren’t you and Corm kissin’ in a tree all loved up yet?” Robin had sighed and rambled on about how everything between them was so great, and she felt so safe and appreciated and valued by him and his constant support.  
She felt like he was a soulmate, the best friend she could have ever hoped to make, and that if that was all she could have then she’d rather have that.

“Basically all the nothing I have with him is so much better than all the somethings I had with Matt and those ridiculous blind dates you and Vanessa set me up with post-Matt! So…..we’re mates…..even though…..”

Ilsa had jumped upon her friend’s statement, “Even though what? You’d like to test out his suspension? You’d like to let him scrutinise you for clues?.....or…..or…..just fuck you?”  
Robin had sniggered, but not actually replied out loud.  
Inwardly she’d sighed a ‘God yes!’

She’d been lost in her thoughts until the deep, familiar, rumbling baritone interrupted them.  
“You gonna finish that?”

She jumped and glanced at her lap and the half finished wrap he was indicating, hopefully.  
Wordlessly she passed over the last couple of mouthfuls, turning her attention instead to her water and rummaging in the bottom of the small, paper carrier bag for the Twirl she had popped in at the till.  
Strike’s jaw continued to work on the red pepper and tortilla but his eyes displayed a cheeky mixture of surprise and hopeful delight at the crinkling of the foil as she teared it open.

She realised that the only reason she’d selected the bar was because it had 2 fingers meaning she could share easily with him!

Having eaten her own piece quickly, so as not to end up with sticky fingers she passed the remaining bar across, earning a boyish grunt of happiness as he licked around his teeth with his tongue before devouring it in 2 bites.

“Perfect!” he murmured, tipping his face into the sun and allowing his eyes to close behind his aviator shades as he allowed the remnants of milk chocolate to melt on his tongue.  
He honestly didn’t think he could feel happier.  
Warmth on his face, sunlight making Robin’s hair resemble a golden halo and a feeling of such contentment about the woman sat beside him…..it was enough wasn’t it?

They strolled back to the office, side by side.  
He glanced down and across at her as he smoked.  
A busker was playing an acoustic version of a song he’d heard dimly on the radio a few times. His growling voice was portraying the lyrics beautifully, and his guitar work was picking out a pretty gorgeous contrast melody.

He didn’t believe in fate, or signs or any of that shit….but that song……and the sun glinting off Robin’s hair.

Robin noticed that Cormoran was slightly distracted as they approached the office. He’d gone quiet when she’d started talking about one of their clients; Strike had nicknamed him Grease Ball, although infront of Robin he was referred to as Tall Paul.

“So what do you think? Should I call him in? I can meet him late on Thursday when you’re tailing his so called secretary," she asked.  
Strike was dimly aware that they’d got all the way to the office which Robin had unlocked, and she had already removed her sunglasses and the cross body bag she’d been using for a couple of months.  
Without asking, just on instinct she had moved to the kitchenette and was already preparing tea for them both; selecting one of his preferred large mugs as well as one of the slimmer ones she favoured.

“Cormoran? Are you listening? I’m waiting!” she stated, pulling him from the recollection of that busker’s song.

Why not?

He took the three steps towards her staring directly into her swirling and slightly confused blue-grey eyes.  
Grabbing hold of her elbows he held her still, searching her face for the same reaction he had memorised from back when he’d handled her in a similar manner on that balcony during their first case. Back then her reaction had confused him; but now that he was aware of the hideous attack she’d lived through it made sense.

However on this occasion he saw no such anxiety reflected in her eyes.  
His thumbs caressed the soft, slightly damp skin of her inner arms and he saw the moment that her eyes finally flicked from confusion to….fuck….was it hope?

He swallowed once and licked across his lower lip.  
“I want more, Robin…..with you….I want more.”

His eyes searched hers for more of that flash of….whatever it was he’d seen there a few moments ago. His hands stroked along her forearms.  
Before his fingers left contact with her she folded her hand into his left one and clasped the other around it, almost managing to cover his dark, hairy skin with her slender, coral tipped hands and dragged it up to her mouth.  
She dipped her face and pressed a tender but purposeful kiss to his knuckles before tilting her chin up to meet his slightly more twinkling than usual gaze.

Cormoran acted without thinking; to be fair all ability to think had left his normally astute brain when the warm softness of Robin’s lips had made contact with his shaking right hand; so the fact that the same hand was now reaching to rest against her cheek, pulling her face towards him was almost a muscle memory reaction.

Both became aware of the hot breath of the other, and neither pulled apart, infact Robin reached one of her hands across to rest her palm against his rapidly beating heart.  
The feathery touch of his lips against hers made her gasp slightly before she met his pressure with her own and found herself sliding her free hand up his shoulder as he growled softly and planted his palm firmly at her lower back, cementing her body to his as they kissed and kissed; as if the world might grind to a halt if they stopped.

Robin had opened her mouth to him and flexed her hips against him as his tongue slid against hers, chasing the warm pressure when they met, licking into her with a fervour that forewarned Robin of the delights to come once they shared a bed.  
Several heady minutes passed with them locked together.  
Soft whimpers from Robin, gentle groans from Strike permeated the air in the office, with the kettle flicking off unnoticed as Strike’s arms folded completely around Robin and held her tightly as she melted into him, like the waves finding the shore.

Eventually they mutually pulled apart, Cormoran’s nose tracing a line across Robin’s forehead as she nuzzled against his beard.  
“I’ve always wanted more Cormoran,” she stated, smiling as he pressed soft kisses to her skin and scalp.

“I wish you’d bloody well said something!” he admonished, but the crinkle-eyed smile he gave her….and only her…..told her way more than he could ever put into words.


End file.
